


Phantom Traveler

by DaydreamDestiel



Series: Supernatural, Starring You [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Eventual Dean x Reader, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 07:34:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6229372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaydreamDestiel/pseuds/DaydreamDestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When TransNational Flight 2485 goes down with signs of supernatural activity, Dean gets a call for help. You and the boys need to figure out what happened, and stop it from happening again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The creak of the motel door opening woke you up. You’d been pleasantly dreaming about a certain green-eyed hunter who was occupying the other bed when the sound had thrown you harshly back to reality. Your eyes popped open instantly, and those green eyes you had just been dreaming of swam into focus on the other bed.

And then, _holy shit,_ you noticed the rest of him. He was sprawled out on his front, the sheets loosely twisted around his ankles. The black boxer-briefs he wore just accentuated his _fucking_ perfect ass, and strong legs. His torso was covered in a thin grey t-shirt that showed off the smooth plain of his back, and _god damn_ , his hair was tussled from sleep. The dim morning sunlight made all of his exposed skin gleam golden. And all of those things sent a jolt of untimely heat straight between your legs.

Despite the undercurrent of fear, despite the fact that someone was sneaking into your room, your mind was totally eclipsed with the _fucking fantastic_ view in front of you. You hoped your eyes weren’t quite as filled with lust as your thoughts, because Dean was still staring into them.

His whole body tensed as his hand slipped under his pillow for the knife he kept there. The movement shook you back to the clear and present danger, and you followed his lead and silently picked up your own knife from the night stand.

The door closed and your heart rate climbed steadily as the shadow on the other side of the divider moved further into the room and for one strained moment you held your breath.

“Mornin’ Sunshine!” Sam greeted as he rounded the frosted glass that obscured the door, a takeout bag in his hands.

“ _Jesus_ , Sam. Make a little noise when you leave!” You complained, dropping the knife back onto the table, and flopping onto your back with relief.

Sam smirked at you, hazel eyes amused and you wanted to throw a pillow at him, but whatever was in the bag he was holding smelled pretty damn good plus he had coffee, and you decided to play nice.

“Uhh,” Dean groaned, propping himself up to look over his shoulder. “What time is it?”

“Oh, it’s about five forty-five.” Sam chirped cheerfully.

“In the morning?” Dean grumbled.

“Yep.” Sam acknowledged.

“Where does the day go?” Dean questioned rolling over to get a better look at Sam.

 _And great,_ now you had a full frontal view of that fucking gorgeous body, and your eyes were trailing up it from the tips of his exposed toes, over his legs and _woah_ , you averted your eyes because you needed to control your breathing and stop having _very, very, very_ inappropriate thoughts about Dean while Sam was standing a few feet away.

Because, _fuck_ , this day had barely started and it was already wrecking you. So you forced your eyes to Sam instead, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, and the fact he’d lost more than a few pounds. Worry tightened your chest, and Dean was clearly having the same sort of thoughts as you, because his next words echoed them.

“D’you get any sleep last night?” He asked, semi-coherently.

“Yeah, I caught a couple hours.” Sam lied, looking away from Dean.

“Liar.” Dean accused, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to sit up, and shifting his weight. “’Cause I was up at three and you were watching a George Forman infomercial.”

“Hey, what can I say? It’s riveting TV.” Sam deflected with a wide shrug and a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Sam.” You said quietly, catching his attention as you pushed yourself up into a sitting position, leaning back against the headboard. “When’s the last time you got a good sleep?”

“I dunno, a little while ago.” He answered, nonchalant. “I guess, not a big deal.”

“Yeah it is.” Dean emphasized, and you nodded in agreement, mouth set in a grim line.

“Look, I appreciate your concern guys-”

“Oh, I’m not concerned about you.” Dean cut in, worry on his face belying his denial. “It’s your job to keep _our_ asses alive, so we need you sharp.”

Sam’s lips tugged down into a slightly amused frown as he nodded softly.

“Seriously.” Dean continued. “You still having nightmares about Jess?”

Sam let out a loud sigh, and then crossed the distance to drop down on the bed next to you, facing his brother. You scooted forward and swung your legs over the edge to sit next to him, so your shoulder was gently pressed against his.

“Yeah.” He admitted glumly, shaking his head and you leaned a little closer to offer some comfort. “But it’s not just her. It’s everything. I just forgot you know, _this job_. Man, it gets to ya.”

“Well, you can’t let it. You can’t bring it home like that.” Dean replied grabbing a coffee, and popping the lid off to blow on it before taking a long sip.

You rolled your eyes, and Sam handed your coffee over to you. Leave it to Dean to be super sympathetic. How was anyone supposed to _not_ bring this shit home? Knowing what was out there, wasn’t easy to forget on your off time, and yeah, you couldn’t let it get to you or you’d go crazy, but easier said than done.

“So, what? All this it just, never keeps you up at night?” Sam asked, doubtful and Dean grimaced, then shook his head in response.

“Never. You’re never afraid?” Sam questioned, the tilt of his head, and the skepticism in his voice clearly indicating he didn’t believe it.

“No, not really.” Dean answered with a shrug.

Sam let out a soft chuckle, and you smirked as he leaned forward to pull the knife out from under Dean’s pillow. He held it up in front of him, face clearly stating caught-you-in-a-lie-Dean. Dean’s mouth dropped open as he wracked his brain for a plausible explanation, and you bit your lip to keep from laughing at his expression.

Dean noticed and sent you a half-hearted glare before returning his eyes to the knife and plucking it from Sam’s hand.

“That’s not fear.” He told him. “That is precaution.”

“Alright, whatever. I’m too tired to argue.” Sam gave in.

“It’s a bit of both Dean. And it’s probably healthy.” You chimed in, slinging an arm around Sam. “For someone in our line of work anyway. And even if Dean won’t admit it, Sam, I get it. This job sucks sometimes, and it’s hard to keep it separate. All of us struggle with it at some point, so don’t feel like you’re alone in this.”

Dean scowled at you, pretending to be disgusted by the girly moment you were having, but Sam slumped a little, relieved that he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. You smiled at Dean, and were about to offer some kind of witty remark, when Dean’s phone rang.

Your eyebrow quirked in question as he picked it up, and stared at the screen. He clearly didn’t recognize the number and he let it ring a couple more times before he decided to answer. He flipped it open and held it to his ear.

“Hello?” He asked.

There was a short pause as he listened to the voice on the other end, lips tugging down when he didn’t recognize whoever it was. Then his face lit up as he remembered the person.

“Oh, yeah, right! Up in Kittaning, Pennsylvania. The, uh, the poltergeist thing. It’s not back is it?” Dean replied.

You looked over at Sam, and he shrugged. Whoever was on the line, Sam hadn’t been there for that hunt. Must’ve been after he left for Stanford.

“Well, what is it?” Dean asked.

Another short pause, and then Dean was standing. You tilted your head in question.

“Sure.” He answered.


	2. Chapter 2

“Thanks for making the trip so quick.” Jerry said over his shoulder as he led you, Sam and Dean toward his office. “I oughta be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around.”

“Dean and your dad really helped me out.” Jerry told Sam as he walked.

“Yeah, he told me it was a poltergeist?” Sam asked.

“Polergeist! Man I love that movie!” A guy exclaimed as he walked past.

You stifled a laugh, and settled for smirking at Dean. His lips quirked into a lopsided smile, amused.

“Hey! Nobody’s talkin’ to you. Keep walkin’.” Jerry objected, fixing a glare on the guy before turning his attention back to Sam. “Damn right it was a poltergeist. Practically tore our house apart.”

You followed along silently, wondering what the three of you were doing here, and checking out the cool airplane equipment you were passing.

“I’ll tell you something, if it wasn’t for Dean and your dad, I probably wouldn’t be alive.” Jerry finished as he rounded a corner.

Dean grinned smugly at Sam, and Sam rolled his eyes in response. You just smiled at the two of them. It was nice to hear Dean get some praise once in a while.

“Your dad said you were off at college, that right?” Jerry asked Sam, and your chest tightened a little.

You pushed the thoughts of why he wasn’t still there out of your mind quickly before they could throw you off.

“Yeah, I was. I’m taking some time off.” Sam responded evenly.

“Yeah, well he was real proud of ya, I could tell.” Jerry told him, and Sam’s brows shot up. “You know, he talked about you all the time.”

Your own brows had raised a bit too, because far as you remembered, proud wasn’t exactly the word you would have picked to describe John’s feelings on Sam attending Stanford. A flash of warmth flushed through you, and you liked John just a little bit more.

“He did?” Sam asked, doubtful.

“Yeah, you bet he did.” Jerry told him truthfully, before turning to Dean. “Oh, hey you know, I tried to get ahold of him, but I couldn’t. How’s he doing anyway?”

Dean’s eyes slid over to Sam’s as he considered how to answer Jerry. Sam just shrugged, and Dean looked back to Jerry.

“He’s um, wrapped up in a job right now.” Dean told him.

“Well, we’re missin’ the old man, but we get Sam and Y/N.” Jerry replied, turning around to walk backwards. “Even trade, hunh?”

“No. Not by a long shot.” Sam laughed.

“Not even close.” You agreed, winking. “But we’re still pretty awesome.”

“I got something I want you guys to hear.” Jerry informed you as you finally arrived at his office.

He led you inside the room and shut the door behind you. The three of you sat in the chairs in front of Jerry’s desk. You took the furthest to the right, Dean next to you and Sam on his left. Jerry’s office was dim, and his desk cluttered. He walked over, sat down in his chair and popped a CD into a little black tray.

“Alright, listen to this.” Jerry said. “Sounded like it was up your alley. Normally I wouldn’t have access to this. It’s the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia flight 2485. It was one of ours.”

“Mayday, mayday.” Began a garbled male voice through static. “Repeat. This is United Britannia Flight 2485 requesting immediate instructions and help.”

“United Britannia Flight 2485, we copy your mayday.” Came another man’s voice.

“We may be experiencing some kind of mechanical failure.” The first voice explained before it was cut off with a frightening and unnatural growl that lasted a couple moments before giving way to a little screech. The static returned for a second before the recording abruptly ended.

The baby hairs on the back of your neck were standing on end after hearing that sound. It definitely hadn’t sounded mechanical in nature.

You glanced over at Dean, his eyes met yours, and the look in his vibrant green eyes told you that he was convinced something weird had definitely happened on that flight. You tilted your head in agreement, and then Sam did the same.

“Took off from here, crashed about two hundred miles south. Mechanical failure. Cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board. Only seven got out alive. Pilot was one. His name’s Chuck Lambert, he’s a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh, well, he’s pretty broken up about it. Like it was his fault.”

“You don’t think it was?” You asked.

“No.” Jerry answered. “I don’t.”

“Jerry, we’re gonna need passenger manifests, um, a list of survivors-” Sam started gently, ticking off items on his fingers.

“Right, and um, any way we could take a look at the wreckage?” Dean cut him off.

“The other stuff is no problem. But the wreckage…” Jerry answered, shaking his head slowly. “Fellas the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I’ve got that kind of clearance.”

Dean’s face did that weird frowny sort of pouty, thing, and then smoothed out to a small confident smile. He nodded, letting Jerry know he understood.

“No problem.” Dean assured him.

“Hey, thanks again you guys, for looking into this.” Jerry emphasized, and you smiled at him.

Dean nodded, and Sam cleared his throat awkwardly, clearly they weren’t used to gratitude and compliments. You smirked at them, it was kind of adorable to watch and the three of you headed out with a see-you-later tossed over your shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

“Dean’s taking forever.” You complained to Sam. The two of you were leaning up against the side of the Impala, waiting for Dean to make up some ID’s at the copy place. It hadn’t really been all that long yet, but you were bored, and just hungry enough to be cranky. Sam nodded in commiseration, and then he looked down at you, the expression on his face soft and maybe even a little worried. _Not now,_ you thought hopelessly. And maybe it was the sudden panic on your face, but mercifully he didn’t ask whatever he’d been planning to, and then the bell over the shop jingled as Dean walked out.

Dean grinned at the two of you as he approached, and the sun lit up his brown hair making it glow almost golden. The light brightened it to almost the color of warm caramel, and his eyes were green sea glass flecked with beach sand. Your mouth went suddenly dry as he walked up.

“You’ve been in there forever.” Sam complained as he spread his arms in a what-the-hell gesture.

“You can’t rush perfection.” Dean declared, brandishing three photo ID’s with a smirk.

The sheer sexiness of his stupidly perfect face distracted you enough that you didn’t even look at the cards in his hand until Sam spoke up.

“Homeland security?” Sam asked, face pinched with anxiety, taking his ID from Dean, and pulling you out of your stupor.

“That’s pretty illegal.” You objected, quirking a smile and reaching out for your ID as Dean grinned, proud of himself. “Even for us.”

“Yeah, well, it’s somethin’ new. You know, people haven’t seen it a _thousand_ times. Plus, they won’t question three of us being there.” Dean elaborated, heading over to the driver’s side door.

It took a hell of a lot of will power for you not to follow him with your eyes, but you could feel Sam watching you, and you didn’t wanna give him another reason to have _The Talk_ that was brewing in that pretty head of his.

The three of you climbed in to the car in what had become your usual spots and you leaned forward to rest your arms along the seat back, then propped your chin up on them.

“Alright, so whaddya got?” Dean asked, lips curving in a lopsided smile.

“Well, there’s definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder.” Sam began, pulling out his laptop and keying in the password.

“Yeah?” Dean interrupted.

“Listen.” Sam told him, bringing up the track he’d isolated.

Static played for a moment, and you could faintly hear the pilot asking for help, and then the creepy growl-thing but it morphed into words.

“No survivors.” Warned the creepy voice coming from the speakers.

“ _No survivors_?” You asked, eyebrow raised, looking at Sam.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean questioned. “There were seven survivors.”

“Got me.” Sam replied, frowning as he shook his head.

“So what are you thinking? A haunted flight?” Dean asked, looking between you and Sam.

You shrugged, considering the options. There were honestly lots of things it could be, so you started to go through the catalog of options warehoused in your mind.

“There’s a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships like phantom travelers.” Sam offered.

“Or remember flight 401?” You interrupted, head tilted as you considered it.

“Right, the one that crashed. And the airline salvaged some of its parts, put it in other planes, and then the pilot and the copilot haunted those flights?” Dean recalled, forehead creased in concentration.

“Right.” You confirmed.

“Yep.” Dean admitted, eyes on yours.

Once again you found your pulse speeding up as his eyes lingered on yours, and yet again, you told yourself not to read into it.

“Maybe we got a similar deal?” Sam puzzled.

“Alright, so survivors. Which one d’you wanna talk to first?” Dean asked, pulling out the list Jerry had given him.

“Third on the list. Max Jaffe.” You told him, pointing, you and Sam had already alternated making the calls while Dean had been in the shop. Hadn’t taken long to figure out who should be the next stop.

“Why him?” Dean questioned.

“Well, for one, he’s from around here, and two, if anyone saw anything weird. He did.” Sam explained, and thankfully Dean’s eyes shifted to Sam, giving you a chance to breathe.

“What makes you say that?” Dean asked.

“Sam talked to his mom, and she told him where Max is.” You informed him, frowning.

“And where, exactly, is that?” Dean responded, lips drawn down a touch in confusion.

“Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital.” Sam elaborated.

“Ahh.” Dean acknowledged, confusion clearing. “Guess we oughta go and pay Mr. Jaffe a visit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me all you awesome people! Hopefully I'll get a chance to get another chapter or two up tonight! <3


	4. Chapter 4

“I don’t understand. I already spoke with homeland security.” Max objected, as he walked.

Max was young with black disheveled hair and shiny hazel eyes that were more green than brown. He was average height, slim and he supported some of his weight with a cane as he limped.

You were walking to Max’s right, as the four of you walked over to a wooden patio table on the Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital grounds. The grass was a patchwork of green and brown, but the trees were full and lush.

“Right, well, some new information has come up. So, if you could just answer a couple questions…” Dean trailed off.

“Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything unusual?” Sam asked, and Max’s eyes flashed down before he answered.

“Like what?” Max mumbled, one shoulder shrugging as he seemed to hunch in on himself.

Oh yeah, whatever Max had seen, it’d definitely been unusual. He was cagey and nervous; and it wasn’t just because he’d been in a plane crash either. He’d seen something that had spooked him. Something he didn’t think any of you would believe.

“Strange lights, weird noises maybe?” You asked, and Max’s eyes shifted to you, his cheeks flushed faintly pink, and you got the distinct impression that he was embarrassed to talk about it in front of you. “Voices?”

“No, nothing.” Max replied, dropping into a chair at the table.

“Mr. Jaffe _.”_ Dean broke in as he sat across from Max.

You followed suit and sat to his right, Sam to his left. You stretched your legs out under the table, figured you might as well take a moment to stretch out before being cooped up in the car again.

“ _Jaffe._ ” Max corrected Dean’s pronunciation.

“Jaffe.” Dean repeated properly. “You checked yourself in here, right? Can I ask why?”

“I was a little _stressed_. I survived a plane crash.” Max snapped, sarcasm dripping from his words.

“U-huh.” Dean grunted. “And that’s what terrified you. I mean that’s what you were afraid of?”

“I-I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.” Max stressed, blinking rapidly as he tried and failed to keep the panic off his face.

“See, I think maybe you did see something up there. We need to know what.” Dean told him, voice hard.

“No, no. I was _delusional_.” Max emphasized. “Seeing things.”

“U-huh.” Dean mumbled, giving you a disbelieving look. “He was seeing things.”

You shook your head slightly at Dean. _‘Cause mocking him’s gonna make him talk._ _You totally got his number, Dean,_ you thought, irate. You looked up at Max through your lashes, and put your hand on his arm, gently offering reassurance. Turning on the charm usually seemed to work fairly well with guys his age, and you hoped your subtle flirting would pay off.

“It’s okay.” You consoled him with a soft smile. “Just tell us what you thought you saw. Promise we won’t judge.”

Max let out a sigh, and stared into your eyes for a moment, trying to decide if he should tell you the truth. You leaned in a little, hoping it would encourage him and lucked out. He nodded slowly, and visibly relaxed just a bit.

“There was this, _man._ And uh, he had these… eyes. These, uh, black eyes… And I _saw_ him, er, uh, I _thought_ I saw _him…”_ Max started, running a hand through his hair.

“What?” You questioned quietly and Max scoffed.

“He _opened_ the emergency exit.” Max blurted all at once. “But that’s, that’s _impossible._ Right? I mean, I looked it up, there’s something like 2 tons of pressure on that door.”

“This man, did he seem to appear and disappear? Rapidly?” Sam asked, and Max blinked at him, confused. “It- it would have looked something like a mirage?”

“What are you nuts?” Max retorted, smiling in disbelief, and Sam’s face sort of twitched into a pout for moment.

You bit your bottom lip to keep from laughing, and you dropped your hand from Max’s arm as he shifted in his chair.

“Uh, he was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me.” Max elaborated, head tilted.

“Thanks for your time Mr. Jaffe.” You said, taking your cue now that you had a new lead to chase.

You stood up, and Dean and Sam nodded their farewells to Max.

“Sure.” Max mumbled.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean pulled the car over in front of a beautiful two story house with a manicured front lawn, complete with a stone wall and flower bushes that framed it. It was all big windows, white siding and on the second floor there was even a balcony with double doors that led into what you assumed was the master bedroom. It was gorgeous, and utterly suburban.

“So here we are. George Phelps, seat twenty-C.” Sam announced, peering out his window at the place.

“Hmm.” Dean murmured, as he pulled the keys from the ignition, and then flung his door open before you and Sam scrambled to follow suit. “Man, I don’t care how strong you are! Even yoked up on PCP or something, no _way_ you can open up an emergency door during a flight.”

“Not if you’re human.” You offered, eyebrow raised as you glanced at Dean.

He was biting his lower lip in concentration, hands folded on top of the Impala’s hood, leaning into it and _oh_ , there went your heart rate kicking up again. You clamped down on your imagination just as the image of you pinned up against the cool metal of the car, Dean’s arms bracketing you flitted through your mind.

“Yeah.” Sam agreed, turning around from where he’d been staring up at the house.

You forced your eyes to Sam, and he shrugged before continuing. His hair was flopping over his forehead and sticking out over his ears, and it was an oddly adorable look for a grown man. _Kind of like a giant puppy_ , you thought, amused at your own inner dialog. Happily distracted from the very dirty, very interesting, but _very_ inappropriate thoughts of Dean that kept leaping out at you.

“But maybe this guy George was something else? Some kinda creature maybe? In human form.” He finished.

“Does that look like a creature’s lair to you?” Dean mocked, waving a hand at the completely normal house.

Sam turned back and rolled his shoulders in another shrug. You smirked. The houses here were super close together, offering very little privacy. Odds were you weren’t dealing with a creature, because in close quarters like these, _someone_ would have seen _something_ out of the ordinary if that was the case.

You climbed the front steps, and knocked on the front door. The door opened to a woman, probably mid-forties, with long sandy blonde hair and a slim build. Her face was drawn, and she looked exhausted, but then, she’d just lost her husband, so it was par for the course.

“How can I help you?” She asked, sizing the three of you up.

“Sorry to bother you Mrs. Phelps.” You offered. “We’re just following up with some questions about the plane crash.”

She nodded and invited you in. She didn’t bother to ask for ID, or what department you were with. Sometimes grief seemed to make people forget simple things like not to let strangers into their homes. You trailed her into her living room, and she motioned to the bigger couch for the three of you to sit down as she took the love seat across from it.

You sat in the middle, Sam and Dean dropping onto either side of you. Sam reached out and picked up a framed photo from the coffee table, scanning the picture before showing it to you and Dean. The man in the picture had a receding hairline and a kind face.

“This is your late husband?” Sam asked, and Mrs. Phelps nodded, eyes closing as she struggled for composure.

“Yes, that was my George.” She answered mournfully.

“And he was a, uh, dentist?” Dean asked, pointing at the picture, and then Sam placed it back onto the table.

“He was headed to a convention in Denver.” Mrs. Phelps confirmed with a nod. “Do you know that he was petrified to fly?”

You shook your head; Sam and Dean also indicated they hadn’t known that. Mrs. Phelps looked up at you in agony, pain drawing sharp lines between her brows and at the corners of her mouth.

“For him to go like that.” She finished, eyes watering.

“How long were you married?” You asked her softly, redirecting her attention.

“Thirteen years.” She answered with a proud smile, and your heart gave a little twinge.

Your longest relationship hadn’t been much more than four months, you couldn’t imagine being in love with someone for over a decade and then losing them.

“In all that time…” Sam coaxed gently. “Did you ever notice anything _strange_ about him? Anything out of the ordinary?”

Dean’s eyes flew over to Sam, worried he’d just spooked your lead, but Mrs. Phelps just inclined her head, puzzled as her eyes flickered between the three of you; it was almost like you could see her searching her memory.

“Well…” She confessed. “Uh, he had acid reflux. If that’s what you mean?”

Dean raised his eyebrows and smirked at Sam. If acid reflux was the weirdest thing George’s wife had noticed, then it was extremely improbable that he was any sort of creature.

“That’s, um, useful.” You assured her politely. “Thanks for answering our questions Mrs. Phelps.”

It wasn’t until the three of you were walking back down the steps, the front door firmly closed behind you that Sam finally broke the silence.

“I mean, it goes without saying, it just doesn’t make any sense!” Sam exclaimed.

“Yeah, middle aged dentist with an ulcer’s not exactly evil personified.” Dean agreed pausing to turn back around to face you and Sam. “You know, what we need to do is get inside that NTSB warehouse and check out the wreckage.”

“Okay.” You agreed, peeking down at the worn jeans, grey t-shirt and black leather jacket you were wearing. “But, if we’re gonna do that. We better look the part.”

“Y/N’s right. No way they’ll let us in there looking like this.” Sam confirmed, smirking at Dean.

“Really?” Dean complained, offended as he patted the front of his brown leather jacket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Got a couple more up tonight. :D Hopefully I'll have some time tomorrow to do a few more! I'm excited to start heating things up with Dean and the reader. ;) Promise it's coming! <3


	6. Chapter 6

You stood outside the men’s suit shop waiting for Sam and Dean to finish up. You’d parted ways so that you could wander off in search of something professional for you. You thought you’d done pretty good; Knee length black pencil skirt, a white blouse, and a fitted black blazer accented with a pair of black kitten heels. All in all, you felt pretty Dana Scully right then. Though you kinda wished you’d grabbed flats, because heels weren’t really your strong suit.

Wasn’t your fault hunting and sexy shoes didn’t really mix. You weren’t anticipating anything other than some reconnaissance on this little trip though, so you’d decided to hell with it. Besides, you were still running dangerously low on footwear after the whole falling into a stinky river and wrecking your nice boots in the woods things. The last one brought a smile to your face, because true to his word, Dean had taken you shopping for new boots and it had been hilarious, if not frustrating as well.

And if you’d taken an extra-long time picking out a pair just to torture him a little longer with shopping, it was all in fun. Well, fun for you anyway. Dean had stood around awkwardly rubbing his neck, and mindlessly informing you that every pair you tried looked fine. And then complaining each time you put a pair back until you finally settled on the first set you’d tried on.

The look on his face had been _friggin’_ priceless. The combination of irritation/disbelief/anger/indulgence that had loudly broadcast his overall level of disgust at having to spend forty-five minutes shoe shopping only for you to pick the first ones was the absolute best part of that whole week. It had totally been worth choosing your second favorite pair instead of the ones you actually liked best, and you were never gonna regret going that route. Your lips curved up in a big smile just thinking about it.

Still, you thought the heels looked pretty damn good, and you leaned back against the Impala waiting for the guys. You were about two seconds from going in and asking them why it was taking them longer to choose something than it had you, because _really ladies?_

The bell over the front of the shop jingled, cutting off your thoughts, as Dean pushed through it. He ran a hand over the front of his crisp white shirt, and despite the disgusted look on his face, he looked _fucking_ hot. Full on government agent style in black suit pants, and _hello_ sexy black belt, a black tie and black suit jacket. And _damn_ if it didn’t make about a thousand naughty role-playing fantasies fly through your head.

Sam followed him out in an identical suit, tugging on his collar uncomfortably as they wandered over to the Impala. Neither of them had noticed you yet, and you felt suddenly nervous about your clothing choice. Should you have gone with pants and tie? For practicality reasons, probably, but come on, how many chances did you get to dress up?

“Man, I look like one of the Blues Brothers.” Dean complained to Sam.

“No you don’t.” Sam quipped. “You look more like a seventh grader at his first dance.”

Dean looked down at himself and grimaced.

“I hate this thing.” Dean whined while Sam chuckled.

“I think it’s cute.” You joked, grinning. “Hope you don’t pop an awkward boner when Lacey asks you to dance.”

Dean scoffed, and then his attention turned to you, his eyes raked up from your heels to your face and you felt a blush stain your cheeks. You were also fairly certain that the temperature had just gone up by several degrees, because _oh my god_ it was suddenly way too hot.

“Hey.” Sam interjected, looking between you and Dean. “Do you want into that warehouse or not?”

“Aww, it’s ok Sam.” You consoled, voice over the top with sympathy as you flashed a half smile. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. You look adorable too.”

Sam rolled his eyes at you, but Dean grinned. You had to take his side once in a while.

“And you look like Dana Scully.” Sam snickered and you stuck out your tongue.

“And Scully is frigging awesome, so that’s not exactly an insult smarty-pants.” You retorted cheerfully. “Plus, it took me way less time to throw this together than you two ladies took in there. In other words, let’s get a move on, yeah?”

Dean nodded and finally tore his eyes from you. He headed over to his side of the car. Sam just shook his head at you with a smile and climbed into the front. You popped open your door and slipped into your seat mind replaying every minute expression that had played on Dean’s face as you tried to make sense of whatever had just happened. Because damn if you hadn’t seen desire sparking in his eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

The security guard nodded as you flashed your badges, looking the appropriate amount of impressed and overworked. The three of you walked past another guard as the buzzer sounded. Sam grabbed the handle and pulled the heavy metal door open before waving you through. You sauntered in, followed by Dean and Sam.

You made your way over to the wreckage silently. Most of the plane was intact, if not charred and stripped for examination. Tables surrounding the main wreckage were overloaded with parts and wiring. You picked your way through looking for anything strange.

“What is that?” Sam asked, drawing your attention to Dean.

Dean was holding what looked like a Walkman that had been somehow butchered, and had one earbud in his right ear. You raised an eyebrow, wondering what the heck it was supposed to be.

“It’s an EMF meter. It reads electromagnetic frequencies.” Dean informed him popping the other earbud in, and you smiled widely, impressed at his ingenuity.

People always assumed Sam was the smart one, even Dean fell into that trap, but you knew that Dean was every bit as intelligent as Sam. They just showed it in different ways, or maybe if Dean had been nurtured half as much as Sam he’d have done just as well in school.

“Yeah, I know what an EMF meter is, but why does that one look like a busted up Walkman?” Sam questioned.

“’Cause that’s what I made it out of.” Dean answered with a smirk, proud of himself. “It’s homemade.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Sam mocked, nodding.

Dean’s face fell a bit, and he pouted for a moment. You sent Sam a dirty look before turning to Dean with a warm smile.

“Hey, I think it’s cool.” You assured him with a wink. “Sam’s just jealous he’s not the mechanically inclined brother.”

“Am not.” Sam disagreed.

“Whatever.” Dean mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassed.

Dean took the lead, scanning over the debris that surrounded the plane. When he got to the emergency door, he ran it over the handle, which looked completely bent out of shape, and the lights on the EMF meter lit up all the way.

“Check out the emergency door handle.” Dean requested.

You reached out to run your fingers over the yellow powder that seemed to be crusted on it. A bit of the powder flaked off, and you looked at it up closer. It smelled bad, whatever it was. You were betting sulfur, which meant, in all likelihood demon, but you weren’t a hundred percent.

You hadn’t dealt with one personally, well, not that you’d been aware of anyway. A demon was the reason you didn’t have a mother after all. You’d only been a year old when the demon had possessed her, and your Dad had been forced to stab her to save you. You tore your eyes from the yellow stain on your fingers, and looked up at Dean.

“Is this sulfur?” You wondered, rubbing your finger and thumb together.

“One way to find out.” Sam replied, and pulled out a jackknife.

He flicked it open, and scratched a bit of the yellow stuff into a sample jar. As he scraped it in, you made one last circle around the wreckage, looking for anything else that could be out of place. Honestly though, you didn’t really have a sweet damn clue what you were hoping to find.

You cocked your head to the side as the sound of thundering footsteps rapidly approaching the bay met your ears. Lots of thundering footsteps. _Balls_.

“Uhh, guys!” You exclaimed, and their heads popped up, their eyes locked on you at the same time. “Company.”

“Shit!” Sam exclaimed quietly.

You nodded and took off running as fast as you could in those damn heels. _Whose stupid idea was it to pull a Scully? And how the hell does Gillian Anderson make it look so god damn easy? Please for the love of all that’s holy, don’t let me break an ankle._

Dean got to the door first, and he yanked it open. Sam surged through, and as you passed by, Dean’s hand rested on your lower back for a moment, propelling you forward before he followed and closed it behind him. Heat blossomed where his hand had been, and the blush that graced your cheeks was more than just the exertion of running in ridiculous shoes.

As soon as you were out the doors, the three of you slowed to a stealthy, fast walk. Dean and Sam peeked around the corner to check if the coast was clear, and you took the opportunity to slip out of your heels. Because honestly, if you kept it up much longer you knew you’d be looking at an untimely injury.

Dean peeked back at you to motion that the coast was clear, but he grinned when he saw your heels dangling from your fingers.

“Gillian Anderson makes it look so easy.” You complained with a frown, and Dean’s smile widened.

A second later alarm bells started blaring, and the three of you sprang into action, feet pounding into the asphalt as you headed for the fence. _Aw, fuck, the fence,_ you groaned silently. Dean shrugged out of his coat and tossed it up to cover the barbed wire on top at the same time as Sam leaped up and pulled himself over in a smooth motion.

Dean braced himself, and locked his fingers together to give you a boost. You threw your shoes over the fence and stepped into his hand; he pushed up, and you grabbed the top bar, pulled a leg up, and a sudden ripping sound alerted you to an egregious costume failure. Sam’s eyes widened, and you could tell by the way his lips twitched he was trying not to laugh at you. You had to give him points for trying.

You didn’t have time to dwell on your new side slit, though, so you flung your other leg over and dropped down. Sam reached out to help soften the landing, and once your feet were on the ground he let go.

Dean landed gracefully beside you and jumped up to grab his jacket. You quickly got your shoes from where they’d fallen, ignoring the breeze on your thigh.

“Well, these monkey suits do come in handy!” He quipped before taking off again.

“Yours did!” You complained, before jogging after him. Sam’s laugh rang out from behind you as he caught up.

It was only as you cleared the area and made it back to the impala that you realized exactly how unfortunate your situation was. The skirt had ripped clear up one side, straight to the waist band.

“Never again” You grumbled, waving a hand at your skirt.

Sam chuckled as he climbed into the car, and Dean stood at the driver’s side door, fingers curled on the handle as he glanced back at you, heat dancing in his eyes.

“I dunno, Y/N.” Dean objected. “It’s kind of a hot look on you.”

“No.” You disagreed, as you flushed. “Maybe. Shut up!”

Dean chuckled and pulled open his door and dropped into his seat. You wrenched your own door open and slid in behind him, grinning.


	8. Chapter 8

Jerry stood over his desk, examining the powder Sam had shown him. He was leaned forward, eyes pressed to a big microscope, brow furrowed in concentration.

Sam sat in a backwards chair, arms resting on the seat back. His tie was tugged loose, top two buttons open on his shirt, hair totally disheveled. Dean stood next to him, looking only slightly more put together with just one button popped. And damn if he didn’t look sexier with just that tiny detail altered. He looked just a little undone, and it was enough to kick start a whole array of dirty thoughts flooding through your mind.

You took a slow deep breath, and tried to focus on something, anything, else. It was starting to wear on you though, all the little moments you’d been having with Dean lately. It made you question whether he was really looking at you _like that_ or if you were just seeing what you wanted to see?

And even if he was looking, he definitely wouldn’t be interested in anything more than a little bit of wham, bam, thank-you ma’am fun time. And you knew, _knew,_ that you couldn’t handle that. Not with Dean, anyway.

You wiped the palms of your hands on your thighs, the friction of the rough denim bringing you out of your thoughts. You’d managed to shimmy into some jeans on the drive over, and your ruined skirt was currently pooled on the floor in the back seat of the impala with your blazer.

“Huh.” Jerry mused, looking up. “The stuff is covered in sulfur.”

“You’re sure?” Sam asked seriously.

“Take a look for yourself.” Jerry replied as he straightened up and headed for the door to his office. “If you guys will excuse me; I have an idiot to fire.”

The sound of metal clanging loudly echoed in the small office as Jerry left, and Dean moved around to take a peek into the microscope.

“Hmm.” He murmured. “You know there’s not too many things that leave behind a sulfuric residue.”

“Demonic possession.” You supplied, trying to keep your voice neutral and both of their eyes locked on you.

The thought of your mom crossed all three of your minds. Dean nodded and pursed his lips.

“It would explain how a mortal man would have the strength to open up an emergency hatch.” Dean offered.

“If the guy was possessed, it’s possible.” Sam sighed, still looking at you with concern tinging his hazel eyes.

“Yeah, but this goes way beyond floating over a bed or barfing pea soup. I mean it’s one thing to possess a person, but to use ‘em to take down an entire airplane?” Dean trailed off with a shrug.

“You _ever_ heard of something like this before?” Sam asked, staring up at Dean.

If you hadn’t been so lost in your own thoughts about demons, your mom, and nightmares that all had a recurring demonic theme, you might have taken the time to notice how adorable the look on Sam’s face was; it was that little brother look of faith. The one that said Dean held all the answers.

“Never.” Dean shook his head.

“Maybe we should hit the lore?” You suggested, dragging yourself back into the conversation.

“Yeah.” Sam agreed.

Sam stood up and made his way out of the office. You shoved your emotional baggage as deep as you could. You didn’t need it tripping you up on this case. You definitely weren’t going to mention it to your Dad when he called.

“Hey, you ok?” Dean asked you.

You looked up to see he’d paused in the door, lips curved down in concern. You tilted your head to the side as you considered how to respond, finally settling on honesty.

“Yes and no.” You answered rolling your shoulders in a shrug. “I’ll be fine though.”

“Wanna talk about it?” He questioned, and those stupidly green eyes burned into you.

“Why, Mr. Winchester, are you inviting me to share my feelings?” You teased. “And here I thought emotional avoidance was your preferred method.”

Dean cracked a smile, and you grinned back at him. Your heart rate was spiking again, and your cheeks were pink.

“Seriously though, I’ll be fine.” You reiterated, feeling better already.

“Hey guys.” Sam interrupted, popping his head back in. “If you’re done we need to get on this.”

“Right!” You agreed, and followed him out of the office.


	9. Chapter 9

Old books were piled high on the beds. Copies of various pages and drawings from the literature were tacked to the walls along with some photographs. All of it pertained to different lore on demonic possession.

Dean was sitting on the edge of your bed, leaned over books that were stacked on the other. Dean had changed into jeans, a t-shirt and a dark blue button up that hung open. You were spread out on your stomach behind him, legs bent back at the knees, feet resting on the headboard. You were digging into another pile of books that lay in front of you.

You were still in your stretchy slim cut jeans, but you’d changed into a faded grey t-shirt with ‘I’m sorry for what I said when I was hungry!’ screen printed in black on the front. It was just shy of too snug, but it was soft and comfy.

“So every religion and every world culture has the _concept_ of demons and demonic possessions _right_?” Sam began, looking over at you from where he sat in the chair, his laptop perched on the little table in front of him. “I mean Christian, Native American, Hindu, _you name it_.”

“Yeah, but none of them describe anything _like_ this.” Dean complained.

“Well, that’s not exactly true. You see, according to Japanese beliefs certain demons are behind certain disasters. Both natural and man-made. One _causes_ earthquakes, another causes _disease_.” Sam elaborated.

“And this one causes _plane crashes_?” You speculated.

Sam shrugged with a huff, and Dean let out a sigh as he stood up to pace. You pulled yourself up so that you were sitting, and stretched your legs out.

“Alright, so _what,_ we have a demon that’s evolved with the times and found a way to ratchet up the body count?” Dean asked, treading across the floor.

“Uh, yeah.” Sam answered lightly. “And you know, who knows how many planes it’s brought down before this one?”

Dean turned, letting out a small laugh that was anything but happy. He scratched the back of his head and shoved one hand in his pocket. He looked lost, and the thought made your chest constrict and your stomach drop.

“What?” Sam asked, turning more toward Dean.

“I dunno, man, this isn’t our normal gig.” Dean answered, as he spun to face him with a tight smile. “I mean demons; they don’t want anything. Just death and destruction, for its own sake.” And his smile turned into a grimace. “I mean this is big. You know, I wish Dad was here.”

Dean rubbed a hand through his hair and he just looked so forlorn that it made you ache. And Sam, well, Sam just looked gutted. You wondered if it had more to do with the sight of Dean, infallible big brother that he was, having a crisis than it did with John.

“Yeah, me too.” Sam echoed, voice pained.

The silence that crept through the room after that was stifling, and you didn’t know how to help, so you forced a lopsided smile on your face.

“For what it’s worth guys, I’m pretty sure, I mean, about seventy percent or so, that we’ve got this.” You joked, going for levity.

“Only seventy?” Sam retorted, and Dean’s lips quirked up just a little.

“To be fair, I did split my skirt up the side today, so I’m not counting on luck and I’m fairly sure luck accounts for, like, a full twenty percent of our success.” You replied, grinning.

Dean shook his head as the shrill sound of his ringtone sang out. He dug through his coat pocket and pulled it out, checking the number before flipping it open and putting it to his ear.

“Hello?” Dean asked.

Sam watched him with worry written on his face. You briefly wondered if Dean had ever gotten a good phone call. Had someone ever called just to say ‘Hey, how’s it going’? Judging by the apprehension both of them seemed to have whenever the phone rang, you guessed it hadn’t happened very often.

“Oh, hey Jerry.” Dean greeted, he looked down as he listened to the response then his eyes suddenly flew to yours. “Wha- Jerry I’m sorry. What happened?”

Your eyes widened a little, and your brows shot up as you waited to hear what happened. Sam sat up a little straighter in his chair.

“Where’d this happen?” Dean questioned, then cocked his head at the answer. “Well, I’ll try to ignore the irony in that.”

“Nothing. Hang in there Jerry, alright? We’ll catch up with you soon.” Dean replied, and snapped his phone shut, shoving it back in his pocket.

“Another crash?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.” Dean murmured, looking shell shocked for a second. “Let’s go.”

“Where?” You puzzled, sliding to the edge of the bed and grabbing your boots.

“Nazareth.” Dean informed you.

 _Ahh,_ the irony joke clicked.

“Well, that’s just wrong.” You protested as you pulled on the dark grey boots.

“Right?” Dean agreed with a little grimace.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Black smoke wafted through the air, floated across the highway and up into the sky. A sign flashed by that read Nazareth 3. In the distance huge hills that looked like tiny mountains jutted out of the horizon. All around farmland surrounded the road. It didn’t take long for Dean to pull up to the crash site and check it for demonic activity. He came back to the car bearing a little jar of yellow powder, and you knew it was gonna turn out to be sulfur.

Your stomach twisted at the subtle reminder of exactly what you were dealing with. Other kids’d had the boogeyman haunting their sleep, you’d had demons haunting yours.

By the time you’d all made it back to Jerry’s office, your emotions had run the gamut from worried to confident and back again. You were wrung out and exhausted as Dean leaned over Jerry’s shoulder.

“Sulfur?” Dean questioned, watching as Jerry stared into the microscope.

Jerry nodded, looking grim and tired. Even though you’d expected it, you still had a reaction to hearing it. Your spine stiffened and goosebumps broke out over your arms.

“Well, that’s great.” Dean said with a sigh as he straightened up and pivoted to face you and Sam. “Alright, so that’s _two_ plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert. This demon sounds like it was after him.”

Sam was sitting at a computer he’d been using, and you were perched on the corner of the desk across from it. You glanced over your shoulder at Sam and he leaned forward as he addressed everyone.

“With all due respect to Chuck, uh, if that’s the case, that would be the _good_ news.” Sam announced.

“What’s the bad news?” You asked him, frowning.

“Chuck’s plane went down exactly forty minutes into flight. And get this; So did flight 2485.” Sam responded quirking an eyebrow.

“Forty minutes? What does that mean?” Jerry asked, looking between the three of you, confused.

“It’s biblical numerology.” You supplied, before getting lost in your own thoughts.

Demons were literally the last thing you wanted to deal with, but you needed to get your head in the game before someone ended up getting hurt because of it. The fact that demons were the stuff of your nightmares needed to be dealt with, because one way or another, you’d be facing a demon soon enough. You had to stop letting it shake you.

“You know, Noah’s ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death.” Dean finished for you, casting a worried look in your direction.

Dean’s voice brought you back to the room, and you gave him a small reassuring smile. You didn’t want him figuring out how much this whole demon thing was affecting you. Didn’t want him to bench you on this. If you were going to be a hunter, you were gonna have to face a demon sooner or later. _No time like the present, right?_

“I went back, and there have been _six_ plane crashes over the last decade that _all_ went down exactly forty minutes in.” Sam added ominously.

“Any survivors?” Dean asked and Sam shook his head.

“No. Or, not until now at least. Not until 2485 for some reason.” Sam replied, and then flung his hand out frustrated. “On the cockpit voice recorder, remember what the EVP said?”

“No survivors.” You and Dean quoted at the same time.

“It’s going after all the survivors.” Dean elaborated, unsettled.

“It’s trying to finish the job.” You agreed, eyes narrowing with determination.

Hell if you were gonna let this damn thing take down another plane. Not one more person was going to die because of it, not if you could help it.

“We need to get a hold of all the passengers.” Sam pointed out.

“Jerry, can you get me another copy of the passenger manifest?” You asked, standing. “Sam and I can make the calls while Dean drives.”

“Sure thing, Y/N.” Jerry replied heading over to his computer.

Once he’d handed it over to you, you’d thanked him and the three of you had headed for the Impala. Night had descended while you’d been in the office, and as soon as you climbed in the car you fished out a tiny pen light from your purse to read the list with.

“You take the first guy, I’ll take the second and we’ll alternate.” You suggested to Sam as Dean started up the car.

“Sounds good.” He agreed, and the sound of phone keys tapping began chirping out.

You quickly followed suit and keyed in the number. It didn’t take long to confirm the first two on your half of the list weren’t getting in an airplane any time soon, Sam’s first call had been a resounding nope and Max Jaffe was definitely out, which left the guy Sam was talking to right now and the girl who hadn’t picked up.

“Well, thank you for taking our survey, and if you do plan to fly, please don’t forget your friends at United Britannia Airlines. Thanks.” Sam said cheerfully as he flicked his phone closed.

“Take it that was a no too?” You questioned, scooting up in your seat to rest your arms on their seat back.

“Definite no.” Sam confirmed.

“Alright, so our only wild card is the flight attendant Amanda Walker?” Dean surmised, eyes still focused on the road.

“Right. Her sister Karen said her flight leaves Indianapolis at eight p.m. It’s her first night back on the job.” Sam answered.

“Huh, that sounds like just our luck.” Dean responded, tightening his grip on the steering wheel and pushing down on the gas pedal.

“Dean, it’s a five-hour drive.” You objected. “Even with you at the wheel. No way we can make it in time.”

“Why don’t you call Amanda’s cell phone again? See if we can’t head her off at the pass?” Dean asked Sam, ignoring your criticism.

“I already left her like, three voice messages.” Sam complained, running a hand through his hair. “She must’a turned her cellphone off. God, we’re never gonna make it.”

“Oh, we’ll make it.” Dean assured, as he pushed the car even harder.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long guys! Hopefully I'll have the next chapter up much sooner, and I promise it's gonna have the Dean/Reader relationship heat up more! Thanks so much for all the awesome comments, I love hearing from you lovely readers! It always helps motivate me. ;) Enjoy!

True to his word, Dean pulled the Impala up to the airport with a bit of time to spare and the three of you rushed through the sliding doors and ran through the terminal to the monitors that listed departures.

“Right there!” Sam panted, pointing at one of the screens. “They’re boarding in thirty minutes.”

You let out a soft sigh of relief and sucked in air, trying to catch your breath. Your adrenaline was spiking, and you were on edge.

“Okay. We still have some cards to play.” Dean replied. “We need to find a phone.”

“Over there.” You pointed out, nodding to a white courtesy phone.

Dean quickly moved over to it, and picked it up. You and Sam trailed behind and stopped just short of where he was.

“Hi, gate thirteen.” Dean said into the phone. “I’m trying to contact an Amanda Walker. She’s a flight attendant on flight, um, flight 4424.”

There was a pause while Dean waited for the call to go through, and you bit your nails nervously, hoping that he’d be able to convince her not to get on the plane.

“Come on.” Dean grumbled, and then changed his tone when someone answered. “Ms. Walker, hi, this is Dr. James Headfield from St. Francis Memorial Hospital, we have a Karen Walker here… Nothing serious, just a minor car accident but she was injured, so… You what?”

Dean’s jaw went slack with surprise, and he scrambled to come up with a way to respond to whatever Amanda had said. His mouth opened and closed a couple times, like he wanted to say something, but had nothing. You raised your brows, but kept silent.

“Uh, Well, there must be some mistake.” Dean finally got out.

Another short pause, and then Dean’s forehead crinkled, and he smirked with a shrug, apparently deciding to go for broke.

“Guilty as charged.” He replied. “He’s, really sorry…Yes, but he really needs to see you tonight…. Don’t be like _that_! I mean the guy’s a _mess_ really, it’s pathetic… Oh _yeah_. No, no, wait! Amanda? Amanda!”

Dean frowned at the receiver for a moment before slamming it back on the cradle in defeat. So much for getting Amanda to stay off the flight.

“Damn it!” Dean exclaimed, turning around to pace. “I was so close!”

“Alright, it’s time for plan B.” Sam announced, and you frowned, doubting you’d like plan B. “We’re getting on that plane.”

Nope, you definitely didn’t like plan B. Hunting a demon was scary enough. Hunting a demon while trapped in a tin can, however many feet off the ground while on a strict forty-minute timeline? It was enough to make you feel a little green around the gills, but you’d do it. Without hesitation, because that was your damn job, and you weren’t going to let something as pathetic as nightmares keep you from doing it.

“W-well, now just hold on a second.” Dean protested, eyes wide as his forehead beaded with sudden sweat.

“Dean, that plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board, and if we’re right, it’s gonna crash.” Sam reminded him quietly.

 “I know.” Dean stumbled, eyes impossibly wider, frown deepening.

“Okay then, we’re getting on that plane. We need to find that demon and exorcise it. Look, I’ll go get the tickets, you two go get whatever you can out of the trunk. Whatever’ll make it through security, meet me back here in five minutes.” Sam reasoned.

It was then that you noticed the fear on Dean’s face; or more accurately, the abject terror. No way was Dean that afraid of a black-eyed bastard. So what the hell? Sam had started to walk away, but he pulled up short at the way Dean stood frozen in place.

“Dean?” You questioned. “You okay?”

Dean tilted his head in assent, shrugging a shoulder casually before his façade crumbled, and he shook his head.

“No!” He exclaimed in a loud whisper and your brows shot up in surprise. “Not really.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Sam asked gingerly, moving closer, one hand out like he might startle Dean if he got too close. Which, knowing Dean, he might.

“Well, I kinda have this problem with uh.” Dean made a flapping motion with his hand in front of himself, looking to the side before letting out a loud breath.

“With flying?” You supplied, not totally surprised as Dean’s eyes flashed to yours almost pleading. Your heart lurched in reaction. Seeing him struggle was hard.

“Dude! It’s never really been an issue until now!” Dean exclaimed, pained expression painting his face in tense lines.

“You’re joking right?” Sam suggested, disbelief and concern radiated from him.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Dean retorted, and the flop sweat he was coated in certainly lent credibility to his claim. “Why do you think I drive everywhere Sam!”

Sam shook his head for a second, like he was trying to clear it before he dropped his hand to his side, looking from Dean to you.

“Alright.” He consoled Dean. “Y/N and I can go.”

“What?” Dean asked, incredulous gaze flicking between you and Sam, mouth drawn in a grimace.

“We’ll do this one on our own.” Sam shrugged, because there was no way he’d let over a hundred people die just because Dean was afraid to fly.

“It’s okay Dean, we got this.” You echoed and reached out to rub Dean’s arm.

“What are you nuts?” Dean complained, arms spreading wide as he stared at Sam. “You said it yourself, Sam, the plane’s gonna crash!”

“Look, Dean, we can all do this together, or the two of us,” Sam flung out a hand between him and you. “can do it on our own, I’m not seeing a third option here.”

“Come on!” Dean whined, swinging his arm. “Really? Man.”

A burst of pride had you reaching over again to reassure Dean by gripping his arm tightly as you tugged him to the car. Of course Dean wasn’t going to let his fear of flying stop him from making sure the demon got sent back where it came from.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Another chapter done! And this one is long! It's almost double the usual length of a chapter in this series. Mainly because there was no good way to break it up that felt natural, and so you awesome readers are getting a bit more length. ;) And the heat has been turned up! Enoy! And lemme know what you think. :D

The airplane was crowded with people, and you craned your neck to take a look around. Any one of them could be possessed. _Just great._ Sam sat in the window seat and Dean had insisted on the aisle seat ‘so he wouldn’t feel trapped’, which left you crammed in between them.

The sound of the engines whirring kicked up in a high pitched whine, and Dean stared hard at the emergency instruction pamphlet, forehead creased in concentration. Fear was practically radiating off him. Sam leaned over you to whisper to Dean.

“Just try to relax.” He told him.

“Oh, just try to shut up!” Dean retorted with a grimace.

Sam sat back, grinning, and shook his head. The plane rattled a bit as it sped down the run way and took off. Dean dropped the pamphlet and gripped the arm rests, knuckles white as he held his breath. He stared straight ahead, and the anxiety that swirled in his eyes made your stomach clench.

You finally gave in to the urge that had been clawing at you ever since you sat down, and slipped your hand over to pry his fingers off the arm rest and tangle them with yours. His eyes shot to your face, but he didn’t let go, just gripped tighter and you offered him a comforting smile in return.

“Breathe.” You reminded him. “I got you.”

He quirked an eyebrow at that and a little of the worry in his eyes bled out, or at least it did until a weird whirring sound started up, and then the panic was back full force. He threw his head back on the seat and closed his eyes, mouth twisting open and closed as he gasped like he couldn’t get enough air.

It was pretty painful to watch, and you needed to do something to help, so you brought your other hand over to rub soothing circles on the back of his hand. He kept his eyes closed, but he squeezed your hand a little; you took it as a good sign.

A couple minutes later, Dean still had his eyes squeezed shut, and he was humming softly beneath his breath. Sam leaned over you again, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on your hand joined with Dean’s.

“Dude, are you humming Metallica?” Sam asked, brows furrowed.

“It calms me down.” Dean informed him, going right back to humming.

“Look, man, I get you’re nervous alright? But you gotta stay focused.” Sam replied and Dean forced his eyes open to look at him.

“Okay.” He agreed, before leaning back, shoulders tense.

“I mean, we got thirty-two minutes and counting to track this thing down or whoever it’s _possessing_ anyway, and perform a full on exorcism.” Sam whispered seriously.

“Yeah, on a crowded plane that’s gonna be easy.” Dean clipped.

“Just take it one step at a time.” You cut in, smoothing your thumb over Dean’s.

Dean nodded, eyes locked on yours and took a deep breath. You tried to keep your expression as comforting as possible, even if you were a little worried by that thought too.

“Now, who is it possessing?” Sam wondered.

“Well,” Dean sucked in a little gasp of air. “It’s usually gonna be somebody with some sort of weakness. You know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through. Somebody with an addiction or some sort of emotional distress.”  

Dean turned his head to glance around the cabin, as he tried to keep himself from freaking out again.

“Mmm.” You agreed. “And guess who my top pick for emotional distress is?”

“Amanda Walker?” Sam volunteered. “It’s her first flight after the crash.”

“Ten points to Sammy.” You affirmed with a wry smile and Dean nodded before looking over to the passing flight attendant.

“Excuse me? Are you Amanda?” He asked, looking up at her.

“No, I’m not.” She answered with a smile.

“Oh, my mistake.” Dean offered.

The flight attendant just smiled, and then continued down the aisle. Dean stole a glance over his shoulder, back down the aisle before he looked back at you and Sam.

“Alright, well that’s gotta be Amanda back there, so…” Dean paused to gasp in a deep breath.  “I’ll go talk to her and, uh, I’ll get a read on her mental state.”

“Right. What if she’s already possessed?” Sam asked and Dean looked blankly at him for a moment.

“There’s ways to test that.” Dean finally got out, reaching down to grab a bottle of clear liquid out of his bag. “I brought holy water.”

“No.” You disagreed, and Sam grabbed the bottle from Dean. “I got something more subtle. If she’s possessed, she’ll flinch at the name of God.”

“Uh, nice.” Dean briefly smiled, or tried to, though it came off as more of a pained grimace.

You untangled your hand from Dean’s, and he reached down to undo his seatbelt. He stood up and turned to make his way to the back.

“Hey!” You called quietly and he bent back to look at you.

“What?”

“Say it in Latin.” You reminded him, with a half-smile.

“I-I know.” He stumbled out, raising an eyebrow and then he turned and walked a few steps.

“Hey!” Sam exclaimed as he leaned further over you and Dean came back, frustrated.

“What?!”

“Uh, in Latin, it’s Christo.” Sam told him.

“Dude, I know! I’m not an idiot.” Dean protested with a glare then stalked off down the aisle.

Sam moved back into his own seat, and gritted his teeth, then he stretched to take a glance back at Dean over the seatback.

“Relax, Sam.” You urged. “Between the two of you, I’m starting to get a boatload of anxiety.”

“Yeah, but Dean’s fear of flying…” Sam trailed off. “It’s freaking me out. Talk about emotional distress. He needs to calm the hell down.”

Your brows raised instantly in reaction to his words. You’d been focused on the immediacy of Dean’s fear and trying to soothe him a bit. It hadn’t even occurred to you that he was currently pretty damn vulnerable to demon possession. _Shit._ You stretched up to look over the back of your seat, Dean was in the back, you could just see him beyond the open curtain, and a surge of uneasiness wound its way through you.

“What are we gonna do?” You asked Sam as you sat back down.

“Figure out a way to snap him out of it?” Sam replied, though his answer sounded more like a question.

The two of you sat in silence, both wrapped up in trying to come up with a way to make the situation better, when Dean slipped back into his seat.

“Alright, well she’s gotta be the most well-adjusted person on the _planet_.” Dean muttered, rolling his eyes.

“You said Christo?” You asked.

“Yeah.” Dean scoffed.

“And?” Sam pressed.

“There’s no demon in her. There’s no demon getting in her.” Dean replied, shifting restlessly in his seat.

“So, it’s on the plane. It could be anyone, anywhere.” Sam said with a sigh.

Sudden turbulence started to rock the pain, and Dean panicked. His hands flew back to the arm rests and he gasped.

“Oh, Come on! That can’t be normal!” He exclaimed, throwing himself back in the seat and struggling to get a grip on himself.

“Hey, hey. It’s just a little bit of turbulence.” You soothed, sliding your palm over his arm.

“Y/N! This plane is _going_ to _crash_.” Dean whispered angrily. “So quit treating me like I’m frickin’ four.”

“You need to calm down.” Sam cut in.

“Well I’m sorry I can’t!” Dean exclaimed, breathing hard and that’s when you decided to take matters into your own hands.

“Sam, you’re gonna wanna look away.” You told him, unfastening your belt.

“What?” Sam balked.

“Just trust me on this buddy.” You smirked.

Sam raised an eyebrow, but he complied, looking out the dark window. Dean’s eyes were huge with fear and fastened on you. You took a quick breath, bit back your nerves, and then you grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him forward into a kiss, eyes fluttering closed as you leaned in.

The slide of his lips over yours instantly ignited a flash of heat in your belly, and you slipped your tongue along the seam of his lips. He parted them quickly, maybe on instinct and then your tongue swept into his mouth, and _fuck_ the wet slide of his tongue against yours made your toes curl and flames lick over your skin. Kissing Dean was everything you’d imagined it would be; hot and passionate and rough and like being the center of the _whole_ damn _universe_.

You ran your hands up the back of his neck and into his hair, lightly scratching your nails over his scalp and when he groaned into your mouth sparks of pleasure spiked along your spine. Dean’s hands came up to fist in your hair, and he pulled your head back so he could deepen the kiss. You stifled the moan that tried to rip its way out of your throat.

Before you even realized you were doing it, you’d climbed into his lap, straddling his thighs, never breaking the kiss. Dean’s hands trailed down your neck and over your back to rest on your hips. The path he’d traced blazed with heat, and you rocked your hips forward reveling in the feel of his hard cock against the seam of your jeans. Dean groaned softly, and pressed himself up harder, grinding against you.

A loud throat clearing to your right jerked you back to reality. You slowly pulled back, and Dean grazed his teeth over your lower lip with a slight tug as you went, sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. You opened your eyes, and stared straight down into Dean’s hazy green ones. His pupils were blown wide with lust, and just a hint of surprise. His lips were kiss-swollen and bright pink; you imagined yours looked similar. And _fuck,_ he was so hot with that faint pink blush staining his cheeks; his freckles stood out in stark contrast to it and you desperately wanted to kiss them, but it finally clicked in your brain just where you were.

 _Sam._ Sam had cleared his throat, and he was pointedly not looking at either of you. _Shit_. Now you were a thousand percent sure that Sam was gonna wanna have that long overdue feelings talk that you knew was brewing behind those hazel eyes. _Double shit._

“Feel better?” You asked Dean as you crawled back into your own chair.

“A little. Maybe.” He acknowledged with a smirk.

“Good. ‘Cause you gotta calm down. You’re leaving yourself wide open to possession.” You offered by way of explanation, trying not to look as hopelessly gone on him as you felt.

“Shit.” Dean mumbled. “Didn’t think of that.”

“Good thing Sam’s paying attention then, ‘cause neither did I.” You replied honestly.

“Sammy put you up to that?” Dean asked, equal parts incredulous and insecure, which was honestly weird for you to hear.

“No!” Sam exclaimed vehemently, just as you shook your head. “Definitely not. I was just gonna tell you to cool it.”

You shrugged a shoulder, trying for nonchalant but coming off anything but as your cheeks heated. You suddenly felt a greater awareness of the gravity of your actions. If you’d thought you’d wanted Dean before, it was nothing compared to the simmering need that was sizzling beneath your skin now.

“Figured you could use a distraction.” You mumbled, smoothing your hair down into some semblance of normal.

Your heart was still beating too fast, and your skin was still flushed, but you’d managed to get yourself mostly under control. Mostly.

“Distraction? That what they’re calling it nowadays?” Dean smirked at you.

And there went your control as a dark blush flared into existence over your cheeks, and your mouth dropped open a little as if you wanted to spout something witty. Unfortunately, your brain was no longer functioning because all you did was look embarrassed.

“Whatever.” Sam interrupted as he held up John’s journal. “Important stuff; I think I found an exorcism in here that’s gonna work. The Rituale Romanum.”

“What do we have to do?” Dean asked.

“It’s two parts. The first part expels the demon from the victim’s body. It makes it manifest; which actually makes it more powerful.” Sam explained.

“More powerful? How?” You questioned, finally managing to get yourself together.

“Yeah. Well, it doesn’t need to possess someone anymore. It can just wreak havoc on its own.” Sam elaborated.

“Oh,” Dean responded. “And how is that a good thing?”

“Well, because the second part, sends the bastard back to hell.” Sam continued grimly. “Once and for all.”

“Well, first things first we gotta find it.” You pointed out.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long guys! It's been a crazy busy week, but here's another chapter and I'll try and get the next one out tonight too! <3 Thanks for your patience, and hi to all the new subscribers! Hope you're enjoying the series so far!

Dean had grabbed his homemade EMF meter from his bag and headed to the back of the plane to start sweeping for any sign of demonic activity. Meanwhile Sam read over the exorcism as he waited, and you watched Dean. Finally, when he got to just in front of the cockpit, you got bored enough that you slipped out of your seat and walked up behind him. You patted his arm to get his attention and Dean jumped a little at the sudden contact.

“Uh! Don’t do that.” Dean exclaimed with a scowl after he’d caught sight of you behind him.

 

“Anything?” You asked curiously, brow raised as you tried to ignore the way your heart started to race the second he’d looked at you.

“No, nothing. How much time we got?” He questioned and you pulled out your phone to check.

You tried to ignore the sense of dread that settled over you when you read the time. You swallowed hard, clearing your voice before answering. No point panicking Dean any more than he already was.

“Fifteen minutes.” You replied, the worry in your voice barely concealed despite your best effort. “Maybe we missed somebody?”

“Maybe the thing’s just not on the plane.” Dean offered with a shrug, hope or denial, hard to say which filled his eyes.

“You really believe that?” You asked him incredulously as you tilted your head to the side.

Because you didn’t believe for a second any of you were that lucky, and Dean knew it too. So when he blinked blankly at you, and gave a small shrug, you just waited for him to realize how ridiculous he was being.

“Well I will if you will.” Dean challenged and you rolled your eyes, so much for him realizing it on his own.

Your hands instantly went to your waist as you cocked a hip in a classic no-nonsense pose. Just as you’d been about to tell him to quit being an idiot, the lights on the EMF meter lit up all the way. Your eyes flew wide in surprise, and you looked up at Dean in time to see your expression mirrored before he turned a bit to look up.

“What?” You asked, grasping his arm, stomach dropping. “What is it?”

“Christo.” Dean murmured, just a touch louder than a normal speaking voice, and you followed his line of sight straight ahead.  

The co-pilot paused at the cockpit door, and turned to glance back, his eyes pitch black. You swallowed thickly, trying not to look shaken, but those eyes were the same as the ones you saw ripping your friends and family apart whenever you had a bad dream, and it was enough to rattle you. He spun back and closed the heavy metal door behind him.

Dean’s eyes flitted to yours and he stared grimly at you.

“Well fuck me sideways.” You murmured under your breath, discouraged.

“Not the time, sweetheart.” Dean joked with a wink and once again you rolled your eyes.  

You trailed Dean back down the aisle and there must have been something alarming about the look on your faces because Sam stood up before either of you got a word out.

“Did you find it?” He asked quietly, shifting into the aisle to stand in front of you.

“Yeah.” You answered with a frown and waved a hand behind you. “Co-pilot.”

“Shit.” Sam replied, glancing between you and Dean. “What do we do?”

“What _can_ we do?” You speculated. “He’s in the cockpit, and no way he’s gonna come out for us. We need Amanda’s help.”

“ _Seriously?_ ” Sam’s brows shot up as he responded, eyes shocked. “You wanna tell her the _truth?_ ”

“Not much choice.” You argued with a shrug and it was the truth.

There was no time left for games, calculations or gambles. No time to ease her into it either, it was going to have to be abrupt, and you hoped against hope that Amanda would be smart enough to believe. Otherwise, well, none of you were going to make it off this flight.

“I guess.” Sam agreed, though he still looked like he wanted to argue.

You flung a hand in front of you, indicating that Sam should take the lead. He rolled his eyes, but acquiesced and you glanced over at Dean before following. He looked nearly as panicked as you felt, and you didn’t know whether that was reassuring or disturbing. _Gonna go with pretty damn disturbing,_ you thought dismally.

“She’s not gonna believe this.” Sam said looking over his shoulder at Dean, and not for the first time, you wondered if Sam had some telepathic radio that read your thoughts.

“Twelve minutes dude!” Dean exclaimed, stretching his arms out, not needing to offer more, because, yeah, twelve minutes.


	14. Chapter 14

Amanda was fiddling with a dial when the three of you walked back behind the curtain. She spun around at the sound of it opening, and a smile lit up her face as she recognized Dean. Normally you’d have felt a pang of jealousy, but seeing as it hadn’t been too long ago that your tongue was tracing his, you were surprised to find you didn’t feel any animosity. _Go figure._

“Oh hi!” She greeted warmly, eyes on Dean. “Flight’s not too bumpy for you I hope.”

Sam reached behind you to tug the curtain shut. And you shifted nervously from foot to foot, waiting for the inevitable freak out that was undoubtedly going to occur.

“Actually that’s kinda what we need to talk to you about.” Dean replied gently and something about his tone sparked a hint of concern in her eyes.

“Uh, um, Okay. What can I do for you?” She asked, raising her shoulders as her smile lapsed into confusion.

“Alright, this is gonna sound nuts, but,” Dean began, glancing over his shoulder at you and you nodded in encouragement. “we just don’t have time for the whole truth is out there speech now-”

“Alright, look.” Sam cut Dean off with a hand on his bicep as he gave Amanda his best sincere look. “We know you were on flight 2485.”

Amanda’s eyes turned wary, and her arms crossed over her chest as she considered the information and its implications.

“Who are you guys?” She asked, the tone of her voice and her body language clearly letting you know she thought you were a threat.

“Listen.” You tried, moving forward to catch her attention. “We’ve spoken to some of the other survivors. We know something brought down that plane, and we know it _wasn’t_ mechanical failure.”

“And we need your help because _we_ need to stop it from happening _again._ ” Dean added, practically radiating honesty. “Here. Now.”

“I’m sorry. I-I-I’m very busy, I-I have to go back to my-” Amanda stammered as she tried to push between you and Dean to get back out to the aisle.

You closed the distance between you and Dean, bumping your arm against his so there was no room to get by. You pretended not to notice the way your arm warmed from the contact with his, or the way your heart jumped at it.

“Woah, woah, woah, wait a sec.” Dean soothed as he grabbed her shoulders to prevent her from leaving. “We’re not gonna hurt you okay. But listen to me, uh, the pilot from 2485, Chuck Lambert? He’s dead.”

“Wait, what?” Amanda spit out, shaking her head in denial even as hysteria rose in her voice. “Wha- Chuck is dead?”

“He died in a plane crash.” You told her honestly, no longer trying for gentle. “That’s two plane crashes in two months, Amanda. That doesn’t seem strange to you?”

“I-I, uh.” She mumbled, eyes moving to focus on the floor at your feet as she struggled to process what was happening.

“Look!” Sam broke in as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “There was something wrong with 2485. Now maybe you sensed it, maybe you didn’t. But there’s something wrong with this flight too.”

“Amanda you have to believe us.” Dean urged her, and her eyes snapped wildly between your faces.

You put on your best trustworthy face, and it wasn’t hard because you really were being completely honest. Anxiety started to fill you as she wavered between believing you or not, and you didn’t have a sweet frickin’ clue what you’d do if she settled on not.

Finally, she seemed to sag a little in defeat, and she brought a hand up to her forehead.

“On.” She started and then paused to take a shaky breath, her eyes closed briefly. “On 2485, there was this, uh, this man and he… had these eyes.”

“Yes!” Sam coaxed, snapping his fingers. “That’s exactly what we’re talking about.”

“Well I don’t understand!” Amanda said as confusion crept over her features again. “What are you asking me to do?”

“Okay, the co-pilot.” Dean instructed as he quickly transitioned into his authoritative voice. “We need you to bring him back here.”

Something about the tone of his voice when he got all commanding like that always sent a shiver skittering down your spine, and this time wasn’t an exception. You silently cursed your body’s lack of control when it came to Dean.

“Why? What does he have to do with anything?” Amanda questioned, unsure.

“Don’t have time to explain. We just need to talk to him, okay?” Dean told her with a minute shake of his head.

“Well, how am I supposed to go into the cockpit and get the co-pilot?” Amanda demanded, hand flying up to gesture at the front of the plane.

“Whatever it takes.” You pleaded, begging her with your eyes. “Do whatever it takes. Tell him something’s broken back here. Whatever you need to do to get him here, we _need_ you to do it.”

“Do you know that I could _lose_ my _job?_ ” She panicked.

“Okay, well, you could lose a lot more than that if you don’t help us out!” Dean quietly informed her, a touch of desperation lacing his words.

Amanda recoiled slightly, her mouth dropped open and she stared, stunned as she came to a decision. Her shoulders squared, and she took a deep breath, exhaling rapidly before moving forward again.

“Okay.” She said and she squeezed between you and Dean to stalk up the aisle. You heaved a small sigh of relief, but the flash of emotion was short lived as you realized this meant a demon was about to head your way.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be honest guys, finding the transcript, or even hearing what the actual words were in the exorcism scene was impossible, so I mashed up what was listed on a few different sites, combined with what I heard, and I'm 1000% sure it makes absolutely no sense for reals, but it's fiction, so... I'm gonna leave it. Haha. 
> 
> This is the last chapter for this episode! Thanks so much for all the amazing comments and feedback! I hope you loved it, and if you did let me know with a comment! Also, the first chapter of the next episode, Bloody Mary, is up! Go check it out and subscribe. xoxo

Your blood was rushing in your ears as you watched through the curtains while Amanda spoke to the demon. When it’s eyes flicked to the back of the plane, you flinched back out of sight; it was both an involuntary reaction and natural instinct to avoid it and fear had you breathing harshly.

You startled when Dean’s hand tugged on your arm, and you turned your face up to look at him. His eyes were soft, and he leaned down close to you.

“You can do this.” He whispered, reassuring you and the warm puff of his breath on your ear made you flush. “We’re gonna kick this thing in the ass, just like any other monster.”

The heat of his body so close to yours automatically had you replaying the way it had felt to straddle his lap as he kissed you hot and hard. Your tongue darted out to self-consciously wet your lips, and you pushed those thoughts down before they had a chance to consume you.

“Yeah.” You agreed quietly, grateful for the little pep talk, you certainly weren’t on the verge of losing it anymore.

Your composure anyway, because you were definitely on the verge of losing something else, something you’d been trying to keep a lid on ever since Dean pulled into your yard that day, asking you to help him get Sammy from Stanford. Something you were starting to fail miserably at containing.

He squeezed your arm a little before letting his grip loosen and his arm drop back to his side. Sam moved back from where he’d been peeking out of the curtain.

“They’re coming.” He mouthed silently to the two of you and just like that the soft look in Dean’s eyes went hard as his shoulders tensed and his body prepared for the fight.

Your own body reacted instantly, stance widening slightly as you mentally prepped yourself for what you were about to face.

Sam reached into his inside pocket and pulled out the holy water; he tossed it to you and you caught it effortlessly. Dean reached into his own inner jacket pocket and pulled out John’s journal; he handed it off to Sam. You stepped back a bit, leaving Dean room to stand off to one side of the entry way.

“Now what’s the problem?” The demon asked as he pushed the curtain back and stepped through.

Dean’s fist was flying through the air before the sentence was even finished, and he connected solidly with the side of the demon’s head, sending it sprawling onto the floor and against the far wall. Amanda paused in the curtains, face horrified as Dean immediately reached down to grab the demon off the floor by the front of its shirt and slammed it down flat onto it’s back. The demon grunted as it struggled; Dean quickly ripped off a piece of duct tape and fastened it over its mouth to keep it quiet.

Sam dropped to his knees opposite Dean, and you sank down next to Sam, uncapping the bottle.

“Wait!” Amanda cried quietly as she stepped forward. “What are you doing? You said you were just gonna talk to him!”

“We are gonna talk to him.” Dean assured her as he continued to press the duct tape over the demon’s mouth.

Dean leaned back and you took that as your cue; you dumped some holy water over the demon, and steam curled up from the splotches as the demon’s skin hissed and bubbled. The material of it’s shirt sizzled and blackened and the thing cried out in pain as it bucked madly in an attempt to escape.

“Oh my god. What’s wrong with him.” Amanda gasped her hands on her head like it was the only thing keeping her together.

“Look, we need you calm. We need you outside the curtain.” Sam told her.

“No, wait! I don’t understand.” She complained, fear and confusion mingling in her voice.

 “Don’t let anyone in, okay! Can you do that?” Sam asked, trying to focus her attention.

“I-I-ah-” Amanda stammered, eyes still locked on the demon.

“Can you do that?” Sam tried again. “Amanda! Can you do that?”

“Okay!” She finally agreed throwing her hands down in defeat, even as she stared wide eyed and backed away from the demon. “Okay.”

With her last word she launched herself through the curtain. Dean drew back his fist and punched the demon hard in the face as it struggled to get away. The snap of flesh and bone crunched loudly amidst the grunts coming from the demon. You reached out with your free hand to grab one of the demon’s arms and hold it down, but it was strong, and even with the leverage of your weight, you didn’t think you’d be able to keep your grip long.

“Hurry up Sam.” Dean growled. “I don’t know how much longer we can hold him!”

You doused more holy water onto the demon’s chest more steam curled up around you. Dean readjusted his grip on the demon’s shoulders as Sam started to read from the journal.

“ _Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino .._.” Sam read, eyes locked on the book as you and Dean struggled to control the flailing demon. “ _per caelum, caelum antiquos_ -”

Sam paused, shocked as the demon managed to knock the bottle of holy water out of your hand before throwing you backwards. Your head hit the wall hard and you slumped to the ground stunned. An instant later Dean was thrown into the other wall, and you winced in sympathy when he hit it. You only had a second to react before Sam was hurtling toward you as well, the book falling from his hands, and you scrambled out of the way; just narrowly missing being squashed back into the wall.

You threw yourself at the demon, and straddled it’s legs, keeping it from kicking out as Dean grabbed it’s arms. It thrashed wildly beneath you, as Sam picked the book up and continued to read.

“ _Ecce dabit voci suae.”_ Sam continued. “.. _ocem virtutis,_ _tribuite virtutem de-”_

The demon managed to rip an arm free from Dean’s restraining hands and knock you off of it, sending you crashing to the carpet. It swung back and caught Dean with a punch to the jaw, then ripped the tape off of it’s mouth, and glared murderously at Sam.

“I know what happened to your girlfriend.” It taunted and you forced yourself back up as Sam stared at it, shock and pain flashing in his eyes. “She must have died screaming. And even now she’s burning!”

Dean cut off the demon’s speech with a hard right hook to its jaw while you fell to your knees beside Sam and grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you; his eyes were unfocused and the guilt that swirled through them caused your stomach to clench painfully.

“Sam!” You called, needing him to snap out of it. “It’s _lying._ Demon’s _lie._ ”

Sam pulled out of your grasp as he shook his head softly, but he picked up where he left off calling out the Latin words that would end this before he dropped the journal and pitched forward to help Dean who was still fighting to keep the demon down. The demon’s foot shot out and kicked John’s journal out into the aisle and you threw yourself out after it rushing past Amanda.

You’d just bent down to grab it when the plane suddenly tipped forward and the unexpected momentum sent you into a fucked up sort of somersault right over the book. You landed on your back and gasped for air as the wind was knocked out of you. The lights had gone out and passengers screaming echoed around you. You forced yourself to roll onto your stomach and you army crawled back to where the book had slid. You could see Sam struggling to make his way to you. You smirked at him as your fingers closed over the edges of the journal, and you flipped to the right page. You lifted it closer to your face so you could read the nearly illegible words in the dim light. 1

“ _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus_

_omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursion_  
_infernalis adversarii, omnis legio,_  
_omnis congregatio et secta diabolica._  
_Ergo draco maledicte_  
_et omnis legio diabolica_  
_adjuramus te._  
_Cessa decipere humanas creaturas,_  
_eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare._  
  
_Vade, Satana, inventor et magister_  
_omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis._  
_Humiliare sub potenti manu dei,_  
_contremisce et effuge, invocato a_  
_nobis sancto et terribili nomine,_  
_quem inferi tremunt._  
  
_Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine._  
_Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire_  
_te rogamus, audi nos._  
_Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae humiliare digneris,_  
_te rogamus, audi nos._  
  
_Terribilis Deus de sanctuario suo._  
_Deus Israhel ipse truderit virtutem_  
_et fortitudinem plebi Suae._  
_Benedictus deus. Gloria patri.”_

As soon as the last word was out of your mouth flashes of lightning lit up the plane and you slammed the book shut, threw yourself back to the ground, covered your head and hoped for the best. You gulped down the fear that you’d been suppressing as it endeavored to claw its way up your throat.  

The plane rocked as the pilot tried to regain control and you worked to steady your breathing. Your eyes were shut tight, and you gasped as the plane finally steadied itself. Warm hands closing over your own finally pulled your eyes open, and you saw Sam smiling down at you as he tugged you to stand. You let out a sigh as the tension bled from your body and Sam wrapped you in a loose, warm hug. _Thank fuck that’s over_ , you thought enthusiastically. You’d just bagged your first demon, and the thought sent a giddy relief through you as you clung to Sam for a moment.

When you pulled back, Sam still looked concerned, but you shook your head letting him know you were okay. You looked past Sam for Dean, glad to see him standing just behind the blue curtains, looking mostly intact, if not a bit shell shocked, and you let out a small chuckle at his expression.

None of you spoke as you headed back to your seats, or throughout landing. Opting instead to recline in your seats, exhausted and nursing your various scrapes and bruises. The only communication that happened was the silent one when the plane began to descend and Dean slid his hand into your lap to lace his fingers with yours. Your eyebrows shot up a little, but you quickly schooled your expression, and smiled warmly at him. Apparently saving the plane hadn’t done a whole lot to relieve his fear of flying. It wasn’t until you’d all passed through security, and were heading from the airport that one of you finally broke the comfortable silence.

“Let’s get out of here.” Dean said and every line in his body was screaming fatigue; from the slump of his shoulders to the way his arms hung limply at his sides. You and Sam looked and felt about the same; worn out and ready to collapse.

“You ok?” Dean asked Sam as you walked and Sam stepped in front of him pulling them to a stop.

“Dean, it _knew_ about Jessica.” Sam said simply, painfully.

“Sam these things, they- they read minds.” Dean replied, gesturing with his hands.

“They lie.” You reminded Sam again, rubbing his arm, even as the hollow words pricked on their way out.

“Alight?” Dean finished, eyes flashing down to take in your hand on Sam’s arm. “That’s all it was.”

“Yeah.” Sam sighed, but he didn’t believe it.

“Come on.” Dean urged, and you tugged on Sam’s sleeve dragging him behind you.

By the time you’d made it back to the hangar Jerry worked at, the sun had already climbed low in the sky and all you wanted to do was crawl into a motel bed and sleep for a week. Not that it was gonna happen, but still, your body and mind were in desperate need of rest. You were barely even listening to the conversation Dean and Sam were having with Jerry; most of your faculties were being used to keep yourself from falling asleep while standing. Which you wouldn’t think would be hard, but was.

“Nobody knows what you three did, but _I_ do.” Jerry was acknowledging when you tuned back in, and you offered him a sleepy smile. “A lot of people could have been killed.”

Sam and Dean shifted uncomfortably the way the always seemed to when anyone offered them a compliment. Jerry reached out to shake Sam’s hand.

“Your Dad’s gonna be real proud.” Jerry told him with a smile before he reached out to shake yours too.

“And thank you too.” He told you sincerely.

“Any time.” You answered, slipping your hands into your pockets with a small smile as Jerry shook Dean’s hand.

“We’ll see you around Jerry.” Sam told him tiredly, but with a touch of gratitude.

Jerry gave you all one last smile before turning and walking away. Dean was headed to his side of the car when something occurred to him.

“Hey, you know, Jerry?” He called out, and Jerry turned around.

“Yeah?” Jerry questioned.

“I meant to ask you; How did you get my cell phone number anyway? I’ve only had it for like six months.” Dean asked.

“Your Dad gave it to me.” Jerry answered with a simple shrug.

“What?” Sam asked, and similar looks of shock were echoed on all of your faces.

“Well, when’d you talk to _him_?” Dean questioned.

“Well, I mean, I didn’t exactly talk to him.” Jerry qualified. “But uh, I called his number, his voice message said to give _you_ a call. Thanks again guys.”

Jerry turned around again, and headed back into the hangar. You forcibly closed your mouth, which had dropped open of its own volition, and stared wide eyed between Sam and Dean.

After a tense moment, Dean climbed into the car, then you and Sam followed suit. The drive was silent and when Dean pulled over on a dirt road next to the airfield, you slid out of the car to stretch, but kept your distance when the two of them hopped up to sit on the trunk.

“This doesn’t make any sense man. I’ve called Dad’s number like fifty times. It’s been out of service.” Sam complained as Dean keyed in the familiar number on his cell phone.

When Dean leaned closer to Sam so they could both hear into the phone, you knew they were listening to John’s voice and something sad twisted in your gut. What the hell was John doing? You hoped he had a damn good reason for what he was putting those boys through, because watching them live with John’s choices had always been painful, but this? Watching them deal with this was like watching someone be tortured.

Dean finally snapped his phone closed, and Sam’s shoulders sagged as tears welled up in his eyes. When he stomped over to his door, you sucked in a pained breath at the sight. The door slammed behind him and you winced.

Dean let out an unsteady breath and slid off the trunk, his eyes met yours briefly over the hood of the car and he sent you a small sad smile before opening his own door and slipping into the Impala. You let out a sigh before getting into the car too.

The roar of the Impala’s engine, and the loud classic rock that burst from the speakers did nothing to dampen the deafening silence that hung between the three of you as Dean guided the car back onto the highway with a squeal of the tires.


End file.
